


Losers' Weekend

by t_fic (topaz), topaz, topaz119 (topaz)



Series: Weekends [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Comment Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/t_fic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/topaz/pseuds/topaz119
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff didn't know who'd tipped Jensen off--he'd threatened people's lives about keeping things quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losers' Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SPN RPF Hurt/Comfort Meme](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hurtcomfort/222308.html), for the prompt [Jensen takes care of Jeff after he ripped his hamstring while filming "The Losers"](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hurtcomfort/222308.html?thread=1264484#t1264484). In the same universe as [Weekend Plan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/111829).

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

Jeff didn't know who'd tipped Jensen off--he'd threatened people's lives about keeping things quiet. Ending up on the ground trying not to curse at the top of his lungs at the sharp burst of pain that had exploded in his right leg as he was sprinting up the hill after Chris Evans was pretty showy, though. He wasn't all that surprised that somebody'd caved and word had gotten out.

"You look like shit," Jeff answered, leaving the hotel door open and limping back to his cocoon on the couch.

"Of course I look like shit--Eric's gone off the deep end with torturing Jared and me before he leaves us to Sera's tender mercies. I looked like shit before I even got to the airport in Vancouver, and that was 8 hours and three planes ago." Jensen came in and let the door slam shut behind him, dropping his bag and standing there, both hands on his hips, glaring at Jeff.

"It's just a pulled hamstring; you didn't have to fly all the way out here," Jeff muttered, wincing as he tried to get comfortable.

"Yeah, because you've clearly got this under control," Jensen said, gesturing to the litter of take-out boxes and empty bottles and Jeff honestly didn't know what else that was scattered around where he'd been more or less living the last few days.

"Haven't missed a day on set yet," Jeff growled.

"Yeah?" Jensen picked up the fifth of tequila that had been a fuck-I'm-sorry gift from Chris and moved it to the other side of the room. "Well, you've been lucky."

"I'm going to therapy every morning," Jeff said, but he sounded like a sulky five-year-old even to his own ears.

"And coming home and self-medicating the rest of the time, and dammit, Jeff--all that's going to do is make it easier to fuck yourself up again," Jensen snapped. "I know you, dude. The rest of this crew--they're just kids, and you're keeping up with them. They think you're awesome, and you're not going to blow your rep by actually admitting you might be hurting."

Jeff opened his mouth to argue, but there really wasn't anything to argue with.

"See?" Jensen had most of the trash cleared off the coffee table and was sorting through the paperwork from the physical therapist. "If you weren't messed up, you'd be telling me how I'm so full of shit you don't know how my eyes are still green."

"Smart ass," Jeff muttered. Jensen rolled his eyes and made a quiet, thoughtful sound as he found the therapy prescription.

"Okay," he said, skimming it quickly. "You said you were going in every morning?"

"Yeah," Jeff said, leaning his head back against the couch. "They're running electrolysis through it. Icing it down. Stretching it. That kind of stuff."

"All right," Jensen said. "You have it wrapped now?" Jeff nodded. He had the damn thing wrapped all the time, which was just awesome with the heat. It was fucking annoying even in the air-conditioned hotel. Out on location, it made him want to scream.

"Come on," Jensen said, offering an arm. "Get the hell off this couch and go stretch it out on the bed."

Jeff thought about making the obvious crack about having better things to do in a bed, but he really was an idiot and stood up without paying attention to how he did it and _fuck_, it took everything he had not to go right back down again.

"Easy," Jensen murmured, getting a shoulder under Jeff's arm and walking him across the room. "Easy, easy."

Jeff gave up and just let Jensen do all the work, getting him settled on the big, king-sized bed, stripping him out of his sweatpants and elevating the leg.

"Ice is--" Jeff started, but Jensen was grinning and digging through his bag.

"Brought my own," Jensen said, slapping a chem pack on the bedside table and easing it up under Jeff's thigh. His smile turned a little sheepish. "Between Jay and me, we probably have a gross of these things in our trailers. Standard end-of-season hell. I grabbed a bunch as I was leaving. I'd have been here an hour earlier but I had to check the damn bag."

"Well, aren't you a regular Florence Nightingale," Jeff said, sighing as the cold started to penetrate.

"Yeah, maybe, but I'm not wearing the uniform, so get that out of your brain right now."

Jeff grinned at the thought--maybe the first time he'd smiled for real since he'd gone down--and enjoyed the way the blush spread over Jensen's face. "That's too bad," he purred. "We both know you've got the legs for it."

"Fuck you, Morgan," Jensen mumbled, beet red now, and Jeff couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish." Jeff's laugh turned to a hiss as he jostled the leg around a little too much. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Promises, promises," Jensen said, with a semblance of his usual calm even if his color was still high. He fussed a little more around Jeff, then went and dealt with the rest of the room, stacking the plates from Jeff's room-service dinner out in the hall, and finishing up getting rid of the rest of the trash. Jeff watched through half-closed eyes, as comfortable as he'd been in days.

"C'mere. Come take a nap," he said, patting the bed next to him as Jensen stood looking around for something more to fuss with. "If you looked like shit when you got here, you look like warmed-over shit now. "

"You sweet-talker, you," Jensen muttered, but he moved over to the bed obediently, stripping out of his shirt and jeans and crawling up next to Jeff in his t-shirt and boxers.

"Come on, closer. You're not going to mess me up any more than I already am." Jeff tugged at him until he turned into Jeff, his head on Jeff's shoulder and an arm and leg thrown carefully over him. "Yeah, that's good."

Jensen murmured something indistinct and was out almost before Jeff could reach over and turn off the lamp next to the bed. Jeff wasn't quite comfortable enough to follow, but it was good just lying there, combing slowly through the short, soft hair on the back of Jensen's head, feeling him breathe slow and easy into the curve of Jeff's neck.

He dozed until there was a light tap on the door, and Zoe stuck her head in, the extra key in her hand.

"Jeff? We're going out, do you want any--ohh."

Jensen had started awake at her voice and half-rolled toward the door, blinking owlishly at the light from the hall.

"Oh, he is _pretty_, Jeff," Zoe said, smiling like the wolf in sheep's clothing she was. "I am so so sorry for interrupting."

"Will you still love me if I tell you she scares me?" Jensen mumbled, rolling back over and pushing his face into Jeff's collarbone.

"Just proves you're sane, sweetheart," Jeff told him. He rolled his eyes at Zoe, still standing there with a wicked grin on her face. "Bring me back two of whatever you're getting, okay?"

"Of course," Zoe said. "I do expect details, though."

Jensen whimpered a little at that, but Zoe just laughed and ducked back out into the hall. It got quiet again, and peaceful.

"Thanks for coming," Jeff said, finally.

"Where else was I gonna be?" Jensen yawned. "Idiot."

"Now, who's the sweet-talker?" Jeff asked, and Jensen laughed, already halfway back to sleep.


End file.
